During these last Lenten weeks, Lord,
I have counted up my sins,
looking them right in the face,
confessing and acknowledging—
I need you!
Yet I am loathe to lay
these gathered sins
at the foot of the cross today.
I am guilty, ashamed.
This heart is self-centered,
so arrogant.
I see your Son hanging there,
beaten
ragged
scorned
the weight of the world's sins
heavy upon him.
How can I add my own to this?
Yet I remember his words:
For even the Son of Man came
not to be served
but to serve others
and to give his life as a ransom for many.
And in the garden:
Father, if you are willing,
remove this cup from me;
yet not my will,
but yours be done.
He surrendered himself
in the garden,
on the cross,
before the foundation of the world,
for this purpose.
To take the punishment for my sin.
To reconcile me to the Father.
And so I lay these at his feet now,
knowing in my broken heart
that they are already washed away,
my mind unable to fully comprehend
but my soul willing to receive,
and I weep.
And I rejoice.
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